


Maybe Evil Is An Art Form

by Brice_Gottlieb



Category: Howl's Moving Castle - All Media Types, Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: More ships to be added, Multi, On Hiatus, Other, Ray the Lovely Assistant, Tags Will Be Updated Frequently, WILL BE REWRITTEN, Wizard Hayman
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-03
Updated: 2014-11-03
Packaged: 2018-02-23 23:22:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2559569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brice_Gottlieb/pseuds/Brice_Gottlieb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In an old emporium in Porthaven, <br/>All drab and so gray, <br/>Lived a drunk little Wizard <br/>Whose heart fell astray...</p><p>Ray Narvaez Jr. had come to Porthaven to join the sea faring soldiers sailing off to war. Too bad the local Wizard, a vagrant by the name Heyman, had other plans for the young man...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Maybe Evil Is An Art Form

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MadKingV3rn0n](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadKingV3rn0n/gifts).



> Heavily inspired by Howl's Moving Castle and the image The Witch's Son by Auroaronkitten on deviantArt.
> 
> The poem in the summery is based on the opening of Madeline.

Porthaven was a cacophony of scents both foul and pleasant. The seas brought the sting of salt to the air, along with cloistering damp and wood rot that brought a feeling of inevitable endings. The fish were sparking hunger as they grilled and fried in imported oils at the shoreline diners while the remains of their carcasses stunk the back alleys, the stray felines eating such spoiled delicacies and spreading such smells. Cheap perfume lined the ladies that worked at night; sweat served as a cologne for the sailors pulling ships to dock, at least until darkness fell and the liquors flowed freely. 

 

The sights were just as exotic to Ray. The timber cabins of his mountain homeland looked humble compared to the stucco-laden brick structures, all in varying degrees of age and wear. Some had more than one floor, or cobblestone garden walls. Vagabonds lined plenty of streets, awaiting work the sea brought in. Captains came in from Kingsbury wearing the most fashionable of sailing attire. The people here were ruddy of face and strong of arm, something Ray himself was not, and he felt the difference since he'd arrived in the poor shipping town. Ray Narvaez Jr is the modest coat of a field mouse, not unlike those that resided in his father's farmlands. As the sunlight had tanned his skin through breaks foliage, its unbroken beams had only dappled red the hide of these people, and the lack of such markings labeled him an outsider at a glance. Surely a Captain wouldn't see it as such. In these times of war, a capable pair of hands did not matter in color, only in skill. 

 

As firstborn, this had been Ray's lot in life. The inheritance of the farmlands had been passed on to his half-brothers, a set of twins far younger than he. This left Ray to discover his own future, cursed to be one of struggle while his siblings were to learn from his easy mistakes. The life of a soldier wasn't ideal, but the travel seemed appealing enough and should he be doomed to fail, Ray would much rather fight for a cause than keep a business from inevitable closure. Perhaps these vagabonds foretold his own futures and one day, he'd be among their ranks: unremembered for any sort of glory, but with one eye on the hopeful horizon.

 

News around the dock was easy enough to acquire. The soonest recruitment schooner headed for Kingsbury was to arrive within the week, allowing Ray plenty of time to explore this new town. He found room and board at a shady tavern in exchange for what currency he'd not yet been pickpocketed of. The floorboards smelled of mold, but the food was somewhat familiar and the cot was cleaner than expected so Ray left the window shutters open often, walking the streets whenever possible. 

 

The marketplace remained a fascination of his. The glittering newness of imported trinkets and jewelry attracted many eyes and even more hands. Housewives swept longingly over bolts of silks and satin before purchasing simple sheaves of linen for their growing children. Colorful fish practically overflowed from the stalls that sold them, every merchant claiming the freshest. Wizards had lavish stands baring potions and remedies, cure-alls and preventives. Shaman offered their quick tricks and visions for the right price. All manner of trade was performed like acrobatics, from common sailors looking to pinch a bit of rum all the way to the ludicrous asking price of a ceramic inkpot claimed to be used by the King himself.

 

Ray found interest at a stall for magical items. Crystal used for scrying glinted in the dying sunlight, small cloth bags cushioning precious stones and chips of rare woods. For a price, a caged insect could be his, anywhere from the common mantis or horsefly to the brilliantly shaded jewel beetles and quick winged dragonflies. In the end, Ray slipped the silver band from his finger (an ill-fitting gift from a distant aunt) in exchange for a simple wand that embedded a common yellow sapphire at its base. The stone of his birth month, the Wizard informed as the silver ring disappeared in a pocket. It was sure to bring good will. Leaving quickly, Ray made for his tavern in hopes of finding shelter in his rented room before dark. 

 

No need for the unwanted attention...


End file.
